This Much
by My Only Carriage
Summary: LL. Post-5.03. One-part. "The love we give is the love we keep."


**Disclaimer:** I own no character and seek no financial gain from this endeavor.

**The future:** In principle, I'd like to commit to a longer story one day, a multi-parter, but there are many days in a year, and today is not the one. Enjoy anyway!

* * *

They went to the movies and stood in line behind an older couple who looked like they belonged in an art gallery somewhere in France rather than a multiplex. Luke didn't really care about which film was chosen as tonight's form of entertainment, although he insisted on paying for the tickets and the food. And God knows there was a lot of food, mostly the sort which you could not place into any of the major food groups, nor that extra food group they tack on at the bottom of the list where all the garbage goes. It's been years since he'd had a Raisinette, on account of not being a fan of mixing fruit with chocolate, and specificaly fruit which was once maybe fruit, but now was just a dehydrated shell of its former self.

Lorelai ordered for the both of them, but they wouldn't substitute a fruit juice for the Pepsi that came standard in the date combo, so he settled for a ginger ale, thinking it was a lesser poison.

"Did you get it because it tastes like beer?" she asked him as the teenager behind the counter poured the drinks.

"It does not taste like beer." He immediately protested.

"Ginger beer."

"Beer is made of hops."

"One time, it was Thanksgiving and Sookie dragged me to this food fair for connoisseurs and people who just liked to eat, and they had pumpkin flavoured beer."

Luke made a terrible face, imagining chunks of pumpkin flesh floating around a Corona mug.

"What was it like?" He asked, not because he really cared, but because he knew she'd tell him anyway.

"Just like pumpkin pie!"

"Mushy and fibrous?"

"Sweet and delicious!" She countered, but was briefly distracted when their food arrived, so she walked down to the theatre in silence.

"It's got subtitles." Luke pointed out obviously, when he saw a poster advertising the film she'd chosen.

"I know, I know, but at least it's not poorly dubbed by people whose voices sound nothing like the original actors who did it."

"You'll have to read for like two hours."

"Contrary to popular belief, I _am_ literate."

"I didn't mean..."

"I know."

"I just didn't think you were the foreign film type."

"I saw the other one, remember a few years ago, the one that got all the Oscars?"

"Jess bought it, yeah."

"Really? So, what did you think?"

"Like I watched any of his stuff."

"Devil worship and all?" She joked and he threw her a look that told her she was right on.

"Well," she continued, "I _loved_ that one. Rory and I left the theatre and we just wanted to kick some ass. Run on water and jump from tree to tree and do crazy hijinks in the air."

"I hope I wasn't a target."

"We were pretty fond of you. And your coffee."

* * *

She hadn't really talked to Sookie in a few days. They were swamped at the Inn, and Sookie barely left the kitchen, and Lorelai would spend her lunch at Luke's and she'd run over to the diner after work, or chat him up on the phone until he agreed to come over at ungodly hours of the night.

But today she was in the mood for some good, one-on-one girl talk so she planted her butt firmly on a stool by the marble top counter where the cooks hand rolled pasta dough.

Sookie's Cheshire cat smile told Lorela everything she needed to know.

"Yes." Lorelai told her.

"Yes what?"

"You know, what you were going to ask me."

Sookie squealed and clapped her hands in the air. "On a scale of 1 to 10..."

"What are we, high school girls in a food court?"

"11?"

"23?" Lorelai answered with a laugh.

"Oh my God!" Sookie giggled, casually glancing over her shoulder to survey their surroundings. "Did he...wear the hat?"

"Which time?"

"How many times has it been?"

Lorelai crossed her arms over her chest and began counting off. "The night we went on our first date, the night we saw the movie and then the following afternoon when I called him and told him my DVD was skipping again and I was afraid to touch it on account of the fact I didn't want to get electrocuted."

"And he came?"

"Twice." She winked. "The first night, he told me this story about the first time we'd met. And it was uncanny, he remembered everything about that day, and I gave him something and he'd held on to it for eight years and he said all these things to me."

"He loves you." Sookie said knowingly, holding her hand over her heart.

"He didn't say _that_."

"Yet."

"We've gone on two dates."

"You are crazy! I love you, but you're nuts. How many times did I tell you that he looked at you differently. Everyone could see it, that's why people didn't care when they saw you parading around in his shirt at 7 in the morning. He loves you and he's in love with you and now you won't die alone and you can have pretty children with blue eyes and dark hair and Luke can build swing sets."

"Whoa there, Carl Lewis, slow down a little."

"He loves you, he really loves you!" Sookie exclaimed happily.

"Okay, you're freaking me out here."

If there was a balloon in the room at the moment, it would have popped, loudly, in perfect symbolism with Sookie's deflating mood. And it only took a second for her face to fall.

"Oh, no."

"No what?"

"You're doing it, one mention of the L-word, and you're halfway down the highway, high tailing it out of town."

"I'm not." Lorelai protested weakly.

"Yes, yes you are! You are!"

"I'm going nowhere. I'm _in_, Sookie."

"Then stay in. This is such a good thing for the both of you."

"I know."

"It's your life, not a Springsteen song."

"Tramps like us?"

"Stop right there!" Sookie implored.

* * *

"Lorelai, darling, oh, just look at those rosy cheeks, that bit of color you always get when you're getting it good." It's become Miss Patty's standard greeting the last few days, combined with a couple of knowing winks.

"Hi, Miss Patty." Lorelai greets her briefly, knowing the old woman won't let it go that easily.

"You know, I've always thought that you've got to watch out for the quiet ones. My third husband, bless his heart, sat at home and read book after book and he was lost in his little world until he'd show up in our bed and then, watch out for the dynamo in his pants."

"Um..."

"And Luke, for years, harboring this amazing love for you and all he's done is go to bed every night imagining your face and he'd pass you your coffee and touch your fingertips and it was just brewing inside."

"No, oh no..." Lorelai protested. "He had Rachel and Nicole and his diner and stuff." Even she knew that sounded lame.

"All he's wanted is you. I'm not surprised you're glowing like a Tahitian sunset." She winked again.

"I'm happy." Lorelai said simply. "With him."

"Of course. And it's his dream come true."

A couple of young girls showed up with their tutus and Miss Patty was quickly distracted by them. Lorelai was left with a feeling of discomfort that she couldn't quite place, so she went by the newspaper kiosk, bought a copy of the New York Times and one of People Magazine, to satisfy each portion of her brain. Back at the inn, she read both, flipping aimlessly page by page.

Sookie asked about Luke not so subtly at all and told her on at least two separate occasions that it's such a gift to have found a man who really believes that you're his whole life. It's essentially what Rory implied the other day, Rory who for all her steadiness had not yet found a boyfriend even a fraction as devoted to her as Luke was to Lorelai.

And it all left Lorelai feeling very inadequate.

She headed out to lunch in the diner, and he'd made curly fries for her, because she liked the spicy, too salty coating. It was just a single serving, not for the regular patrons, and he even sat with her while she ate and told him about Michel's new Canalli suit.

There was a restroom in the diner, off to the side, but she always hated peeing in public places, and hated the lineup even more. He nodded to his stairs and told her she should just use the bathroom in his apartment.

"Do you have the soft toilet paper up there?"

"I have what I have. My ass can't really tell the difference."

She gasped mockingly. "You poor, oppressed soul. At least now I know what to get you for your birthday."

"Three-ply. Very thoughtful." He said dryly, and pulled a set of keys from his pocket. They were on a rubber keychain in the shape of a popcorn kernel. She loved the keychain immediately, and fingered the three metal keys that hanged from it.

"Keys."

"The big one is for the diner door. The one without a ring is for the back door, in the storage room. The one with the pink ring is for my apartment door. I thought you would like the pink."

"Wow."

"It's just, you have to use the bathroom, so you should just go up without having to have me open the door for you. And you eat here all the time and if you come late at night, you need a key for the front door."

"Wow."

"It's no big deal."

She flushed and felt overwhelmed both by his generosity and by what she perceived to be thoughtlessness on her part.

"I didn't get them for you."

"That's okay, you're here more, right?"

"You can come over any time you want." She assured him.

"I do come over."

"But I mean it, anytime. You're right, I'm always here. I'm eating your food and drinking your coffee and showering in your bathroom, and I have keys to your place and your workplace too now."

"I guess we always ended up here at the end of the day. I've got the food." He points out unnecessarily.

"Yeah." She says quietly and taps his forearm before excusing herself. He watches her run upstairs and can hear her unlocking the door, then she disappears into the apartment.

Once inside, she drops the keys on his table, uses the bathroom and washes her hands with his liquid soap for a long time. The water is colder than it needs to be and she presses her frigid, wet fingers to her cheeks.

There were no towels in the room, presumably because it was laundry day, but she didn't know yet where he kept his other ones, so she walked down into the kitchen and ripped a couple of paper towels off the roll. A shiny, metallic coffee maker sat in the corner of the counter, and caught her eye immediately.

Upon closer inspection, she realized it was not a coffee maker, but an espresso maker. A _Gran Gaggia_, top of the line model not available in the United States, a pricey import from Italy, complete with all the accompanying duties the federal government imposed on such an item. Lorelai let her fingers fall down the long metal spout used for frothing milk, and the smooth porcelain base.

It was expensive and not an impulse buy. Even if it arrived yesterday, it had been long in the planning and she wanted to christen it with a strong cup.

As she rooted through the cabinets, Luke appeared, jangling the doorknob and slipping inside.

"You found it." He stated without much fanfare.

"It called my name. So pretty and so shiny, I just knew it had to be mine."

"You like it, then?"

She threw him a look. A 'you ask a stupid question, therefore you will get a stupid answer' sort of look, and closed the cabinet door.

"I haven't had time to pick up the coffee you need for this. Maybe tonight."

"Oh, you should let me buy the coffee at least."

"Nah, it's a total package or nothing at all."

"It was so expensive, Luke." She says, not surprised that he would spend the money, but at the amount of planning that must have gone into an affair like this.

"I got a deal on it. When you buy two, they ship them for free..."

She raised her eyebrows as he opened his hallway closet and pulled out a large box.

"For your place. Matching ones."

"Bonnie and Clyde!"

"As long as you get Bonnie and don't put Hello Kitty stickers all over mine." He agreed.

She took the box from his hands and set it down on the couch. Her hands were shaky, so she pressed them hard against the cardboard, bracing herself.

"What's wrong?" He asked softly.

"Do you think that you love me more?"

When her eyes met his, he had to look away, uncomfortable by the intensity of her stare and the silent pleading on her face.

"I'm sorry?"

"Everyone thinks so!" She exclaimed. "Miss Patty! Oh, Lorelai, Luke adores you, don't you know he wants to buy you a huge diamond ring. Hell, he's probably already got one sitting in his night stand. And Sookie, talking about swing sets and Rory who thinks you're perfect, but none of them think I am and none of them think I have a ring for you."

"Lorelai..."

She dug her nails into the box and he walked over to her.

"Let go of the box, Lorelai."

"Everyone thinks the same damn thing, Luke."

"I'm not too good for you. I'm a guy who stood aside for eight years and tortured himself and never had the guts to tell you. And there were times when you gave me an 'in' and I never took advantage of it. I got married on a whim to a woman I didn't love, I broke Rachel's heart like she broke mine, I'm still not sure I did a single damn thing right with Jess and he left. I'm not some perfect guy, an oasis in the desert. Not me."

"Look, I know we're just regular, flawed people. But I can see why people would think that it's one-sided, I can."

"And is that so terrible?"

"Excuse me?" She couldn't believe that he'd think it too. Et tu, Brute?

"If I ... loved you more than you loved me? Is that the worst thing in the world? I feel what I feel, what I've felt for a long time. It doesn't work like you think it works Lorelai. I don't determine the strength of my feelings by measuring them against yours. They're independent, and if you married Max and moved out of town, and never threw me a second look, I'd still feel this way."

She took a long, steadying breath.

"I don't want you to feel that way. Like you are slumming it with me. Like you're in a relationship that takes everything from you and gives you very little in return. Like I'm always going to be distant and aloof and out of reach."

"I don't."

"Because that's so sad, Luke. It's how I felt with my mother ever since I can remember. Yes, she's heavy handed and yes, she is overbearing, but I was a little girl and I loved her like any little girl loves her mother. And I'm 36 years old and it still feels like I'll never get from her what I've wanted."

"Do I look to you like I'm slumming it? Like I'm suffering here with somebody who barely tolerates me?"

"No, but I don't want you to think that I love you this much," she holds her thumb and index finger about a half inch apart, "and that you love me this much." She stretches her arms apart as far as they will go.

He nods, and pulls on the lapels of her jacket, like he did a few days ago.

"Okay."

"It's not true, Luke."

She reached up and took his face in her hands, pulling it down so their lips could meet at a more favourable height and just the right angle. He felt her tongue sweep over his own, and couldn't stop his hands anchoring her hips, bringing them closer to his own. Her hands cupped his face, stroking it gently, rasping over his stubble. He was emboldened and slipped his hands beneath her shirt, splaying his fingers on her flat stomach so that his fingertips rested on the silky, flimsy material of her bra. They both knew there wasn't enough time for more than this, and with great reluctance, Lorelai pulled away.

"Have an espresso with me tonight?" She implored.

"The stuff is as strong as battery acid. We won't sleep."

"Whatever shall we do?" She asked, batting her eyelashes, and picked up the Gran Gaggia.

"I'll spend the rest of the day making a list." He told her, smirking.

She was already at the door then, once again holding her index finger and thumb just barely apart.

"Not like that, Luke. Like from me to you." She said, pointing to the long distance between them. "That much."

"Funny, because it's the same from me to you." He points right back.

"What a coincidence." She said softly.

"Not at all."


End file.
